Quoting Case <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>: > I think Platt is reflecting one of the tragedies of the modern era. In the > world of instant communication every artist that paints is compared to the > great masters. Every singer competes with Sinatra and Bono.
Bono? You mean Como? > Every writer > with Pirsig and Robbins. Robbins? Harold Robbins? The rest is Case's "Declaration of Mediocrity" > As a result we look outside of our communities for > beauty to fail to see it manifest in our friends and neighbors because they > are amateurs. > > Platt thinks the New York Philharmonic is superior to a high school band. I > once saw the New York Philharmonic perform. I was a band chaperone on a > field trip to the St. Patrick's Day parade. I found the orchestra stuffy, > the seats uncomfortable and the music put me straight to sleep. But when I > saw those kids marched in the snow along the parade route the next day, I > saw beauty, poetry and heard the trumpets of heaven. Caught up in the new > and alien world, a bunch of kids from Florida, most of them were seeing snow > for the first time. They marched through the belly of the Giant as Irish and > people who love the Irish waved and smiled and hoisted green ale in toasts. > > The only football games I have ever enjoyed were high school games where I > knew the kids playing and was connected directly to their triumphs and > defeats. > > We claim some notion of artistic superiority for those distant professionals > at the peak of their talent. We claim it in the name of beauty and > aesthetics but it is nothing to pleasure of watching your children discover > the art within them or watching your neighbors performing in Community > Theater for the shear love of the play. > > Joni Mitchell gives us a feeling for this tragedy from the point of view of > someone at the top of her game: > > I slept last night in a good hotel; > I went shopping today for jewels. > The wind rushed around in the dirty town > And the children let out from the schools. > I was standing on a noisy corner, > Waiting for the walking green > Across the street he stood, > And he played real good on his clarinet for free. > > Now me, I play for fortunes and the velvet curtain calls. > I got a black limosine and a few gentlemen escorting me to these halls. > And I'll play if you have the money or if you're a friend to me. > But the one-man-band by the quick lunch stand, he was playing real good for > free. > > Nobody stopped to hear him, though he played so sweet and high. > They knew he had never been on their TV; so they passed his good music by. > I meant to go over and ask for a song, maybe put on a harmony. > I heard his refrain as that signal changed, > He was still playing real good for free ------------------------------------------------- This mail sent through IMP: http://horde.org/imp/ moq_discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
